But that wasn’t the case.
Welcome to the series “Orwellian Murakami’s Naoko Nguyen“, or “Girlhood,” previously titled “Survival Guide for High School in Specialized Classes (and Beyond)” or, as I like to call it, “Roasting Everyone Who Wronged Me in High School (including myself).” I hope you have a fun and reflective reading experience as I use my dark humor and extreme pettiness to talk about my trauma and patch up the old wounds. Hopefully, this helps someone.
Names have been changed to protect the identities of both trashy and a select few friends.
Having two options means having the right to choose, having beauty also means having the right to choose as well. Image Source: nomax.vn.
“There is no black and white, only gray… But small betrayals lead to bigger ones, eroding morality.” – Kate Mosse
Suggested Song: Mean – Taylor Swift
To survive well in a specialized high school environment, just remember rule number one: Intellectuals won’t physically harm you; they’ll just mess with your mind and reputation.
I entered K School in 2013, dreaming of a fresh start. However, while I was just sitting there, drama found its way to me. Drama is fun to read about if it’s about others, but if it’s about you, it’s a psychological shock.
Long story short, the entire K School accused me of two-timing.
Short story long…
In 2013, I was in the Biology majored class. I was napping on the chair, clutching the desk. Sweetened Milk, the so-called Biology hot boy a grade above me, saw me and thought:
“Oh, this girl is interesting.”
If you ever have that thought, you’re in for an emotional roller coaster.
Then he decided to pursue me.
Afterward, since Sweetened Milk was my senior and the Biology program had a tradition of seniors and juniors hanging out together, my class joined in to sing along. When I was about to leave, Cuckoo closed the door, blocking my way out.
She asked me if I had a boyfriend, if I liked anyone, my hobbies, etc.—basically, taking advantage of her seniority to make me spill the tea, exploiting the naivety and unpreparedness of a girl who was just stepping into high school, not yet accustomed to the change, and locking me in that room. (Currently, she’s studying nursing in the U.S. Good for her. Read the Hippocratic Oath carefully, please.)
After answering her questions, I went back to my class feeling uncomfortable. Not long after, Sweetened Milk officially started courting me. People said he was handsome, had a pool at home, and was really wealthy. I thought to myself:
“So what? What’s handsome and rich got to do with anything?”
It’s like those guys on Tinder posing with a steering wheel (99% of the time, it’s a borrowed car if there’s no spiritual item in the vehicle) and deep captions, you swipe right, he doesn’t even bother to reply, and you don’t know what to say either, because it’s just boring.
After not dating for long, my former best friend, Happy River (let’s call her Happy), posted an embarrassing picture of me online. Back in 2013-2014, posting someone’s embarrassing photo online was not as chill as it is now.
And I had blocked and re-blocked this girl countless times. So many people commented to mock me. Sweetened Milk didn’t defend me, not even once, nor did he show any clear sign of standing by me. My first crush back in 7th or 8th grade had already told me, “I’ll protect you,” when others made fun of my eczema. I was fuming. The thought of breaking up with Sweetened Milk began at that moment.
Later, Sweetened Milk took me to a Harry Potter-themed café. Sure, I liked Harry Potter, but his talk was unacceptable tasteless. This only confirmed for me that I would break up with him sooner or later; it was just a matter of time.
Around January 2014, before my birthday, my class and Truck’s class had a P.E. class on the rooftop at the same time. I still remember that day because my pants tore right at the bottom of it. Whether he saw something through that tear or noticed that I had a little beauty sitting alone with my phone, I’m not sure, but he messaged me that evening. He liked my picture, and me, being the naïve 10th grader I was, noticed and asked:
“Why did you like my picture?” (Silly girl)
He replied:
“It wasn’t me, my friend liked it.”
And indeed, it was his friend who liked it.
I was left confused by these mixed signals. Eventually, I felt I liked Truck more than Sweetened Milk. The timing and replacement were set.
On January 14, 2014, my birthday, Sweetened Milk gave me a hand-made paper roll with his well-wishes. I accepted it only because I didn’t want to create drama on my birthday. The next day, January 15, 2014, I immediately broke up with Sweetened Milk to be with Truck.
Let me clarify:
1. I am a difficult, sensitive person with weak health since childhood, suspicious by nature, unimpressed by money, and always prioritize talent over looks (keyword: competence kink). Sweetened Milk’s looks didn’t interest me. His personality didn’t interest me. His actions didn’t interest me either. Not interesting enough means we couldn’t be together—makes sense, right?
Truck was also terrible to me—oh, how terrible he was—but I had daddy issues, which made it intriguing, as I thought chaos equaled love. So I chose him. Dating Truck taught me a lot—about FwB, lying, reading people, and the sweet-talking art of saying what others want to hear. Between someone like that and someone like Sweetened Milk, whom would you choose?
2. I admit I was rather cold and ruthless in breaking up with Sweetened Milk to date Truck within days. But that’s who I am, always. I tried my best, with the knowledge I had at that time, to break up clearly and block Sweetened Milk, no messing around or gossiping afterward. I even sent him the song “Apologize.”
If I had a choice to do it over, maybe I would just say, “I like someone else” and still break up with him. If you were me, what would you do? Break up after a few months when you know it’s not a match, or drag it out for years to prove your loyalty, only to break up eventually?
3. That was 2014. Now, when people get to know multiple partners to choose the best one, no one calls it abnormal. Is it just because it was 2014? Too absurd, isn’t it?
4. Dating multiple people now is called polyamory; I’m not saying it’s right or wrong. I’m just saying there’s a reason. It’s all about mutual consent.
5. They said it was wrong of me to date Truck while dating Sweetened Milk, that it was heartless. Well, let me tell you, Sweetened Milk confused me with another girl who looked nothing like me, then realized that girl wasn’t the one he saw sleeping with her arm on the table, so he ditched her and came for me. You tell me, was it right or wrong? Or is it that since he’s a guy, he can do that? But as a girl, I can’t?
Men’s dating history is seen as a record of achievements, while women’s is a stain on their lives. Isn’t that a double standard? (Keywords: misogyny, slut-shaming).
6. I was naturally charming, didn’t need any fox stones to attract attention; anyone I wanted to notice me did notice. It was just a matter of whether I wanted to take it further. I was just standing there, paying for something with a mask on, and guys still came up asking for my number. But since I was committed to monogamy, I declined, and he got mad, only to end up buying me food anyway.
As for Sweetened Milk, what was he like? Other people posted unflattering pictures of his girlfriend online, and he couldn’t even stand up for her. He didn’t have the guts to send a message saying, “For the sake of our friendship, take that picture down.” He didn’t bother to get the facts straight, had to rely on others for anything important, and his personality was as bland as plain water. Sure, he was rich, but here’s how I summed him up: Not Manly Enough.
Last year, I called him a coward. My friend said, “When I read your post, I didn’t think he was all that coward. But after seeing his stories, I had to agree—he was pretty spineless.”
I laughed so hard, thinking about a certain singer who kept writing songs to diss her ex’s new girlfriend, thinking, “How long can you keep chewing on the same old issue like a cow with cud? Have some creativity!” Just weeks before, though, I had told my friend, “If I had gotten cheated on by a celebrity boyfriend, I’d probably talk about it forever, too.”
So I went on, writing about the cringeworthy guys I’d known over the past ten years, adding some clever wordplay that was intellectual—not cheap and tacky like some of today’s gossip—just to satisfy my anger, my hands, my mind, and my voice.
If I was hurting, you were hurting, too. It was like what a junior high kid once said when their resources didn’t match the senior campus at School K: “If we could endure it, so could you.”
(If anyone was still stuck in that mindset, I’d recommend listening to Dr. Chi Nguyen/ The Present Writer’s podcast)
7. But here’s the thing, no matter what I did, nobody had the right to spread lies about me behind my back or to my face. If anyone did that back then, just collect evidence and submit it to the psychology department or a teacher. I heard the school finally opened up on that issue after the sexual harassment incident… Or maybe I lost track because it didn’t get much attention—just a former student who made it to Forbes 30 Under 30, sexually harassing people.
8. I knew that people changed over time. I knew Sweetened Milk, everyone else, and even I had become better people. But that didn’t erase all the mistakes of the past.
9. Here’s a good one. Truck saw me getting dragged through the mud and didn’t say a single word to defend me. Maybe he was busy feeling proud that he’d managed to steal someone else’s girlfriend. Now, if he stood up for me, it would only hurt him. Better to let his girlfriend deal with it herself, right? She went to a specialized school, after all—she should be able to handle things like this. If not, she wouldn’t be worthy of being a student at that school or of being his girlfriend.
10. I still remember the feeling after Tet, holding Truck’s hand as we walked through the school. The whole school stared at me like I was some exotic animal. I felt like I was walking the red carpet (or maybe the black carpet?). Then, once I got to class, the girl Sweetened Milk had tried to hit on told me straight to my face:
“Everyone says you’re two-timing.”
It wasn’t like that at all.
I was shocked. Back in junior high, I’d dated around a lot, but no one ever called me out like that.
The older you get, the less society spares your feelings, and you realize how small you are—just a grain of sand in the desert.
In the end, you are all you’ve got.
My boyfriend at the time was busy grinning and boasting to his friends:
“Did you see that smooth move I pulled off? Got myself a hot girl, swiped her from another dude too, haha.”
His ex-girlfriend took every chance she got to badmouth me. She was on the school’s performing arts team, so she had a lot of support.
I was furious. I said to Truck: “What’s so great about your skills if she’s flat-chested?” He shot back, “Well, you’re just as flat yourself!” Seriously, there’s something wrong with guys’ social skills. The honor and feelings of their girlfriend are nothing compared to their own ego. Their high GPA just goes toward coming up with the sharpest, coolest comebacks—who cares what anyone else thinks?
So, the takeaway here is to try and join some club in high school, preferably an arts one. That way, when drama happens, you’ll have your own crowd backing you up.
When you want to bring someone down, there’ll be people (or dogs) ready to join in.
When my best friend kept dating one guy after another, it was because she was beautiful, it was her right, she was networking for the club. But that other girl dating two guys at once (so the gossip goes) was branded as promiscuous, messy, and too easy, just into playing with multiple guys. You see, everyone was trashing her—no one stood up for her. Sweetened Milk’s friends dragged her through the mud, and even the super-popular Magpie Girl chimed in, and her voice mattered. Then Truck’s ex got in on it, and she was in the performing arts team. We’d probably need her to sing for us one day, so her opinion was important too. The majority was always right.
And that girl? Besides her face, what else did she have? Not to mention her resting bitch face—never smiled, sang as well as Chae Songhwa của Hospital Playlist, but she was an outsider. That alone was proof she was in the wrong.
Later, when she spoke up, she only had to apologize and say, “I didn’t expect things to turn out so bad.” And as for the 1.4 million dong she needed monthly for her medication for dissociative disorder, she’d have to cover that herself. If I sent her money, she’d just end up dependent on me, a burden. Give a person a fishing rod, not the fish—who could take care of her for her whole life, right?
Be Real in a Fake World,
NARCY NGUYEN
